


all around me darkness gathers (you can be me when i'm gone)

by jellyprince (tricycleamoving)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception, Character Death In Dream, Drabble, Dream Espionage, Gun Violence, M/M, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-05 12:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11013789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricycleamoving/pseuds/jellyprince
Summary: “People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.” - Neil GaimanAn Inception AU drabble series.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> HI IM ACTUALLY ALIVE WOW
> 
> im very sorry for being away for so long, hopefully i'll be able to write more now that my semester abroad's coming to an end... i'm actually pretty frustrated at myself for not being able to write all the things i've promised to write, but hopefully i'll start working on the sequels i promised once finals are over! in the meantime, have a rly short drabble about an au i've wanted to write for years now. I REALLY LOVE INCEPTION OKAY.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If this was a novel, he’d be the supporting character with too many neuroses and too little character growth._  
>   
> 
> The team needs a forger, and Lee Jihoon needs to stop running away from his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: smoking, mentions of weapons, mentions of guns and people using them to shoot other people, an unhealthy use of dreamsharing devices, mentions of jihoon being able to do very illegal things (because. inception au), swearing.

Jihoon takes a drag from his cigarette, breathes in the nicotine and exhales out his regrets. The moon shines, bright and full, its luminous beams bringing the faintest of light to the darkest crevices of the small shaded rooftop. Below, the rest of Mombasa falls silent, the cityscape paused in movement, as if the entire city were holding its breath, frozen in thought.

Two cans of beer sit atop the table in front of him, one empty and one unopened. If he closes his eyes he can still pretend like nothing's changed. Like he never fucked up. Like he never left.

That's the problem with people like Jihoon: once they start running, they never stop. No matter how level-headed he has to be to play point to Seungcheol's desperate madness, he's always been running. Running from home, from the military, from the law, from fucking _mind cops trying to shoot his kneecaps off_ , he's done it all. Running from love isn't hard after all that, not for someone like him.

He taps the end of the cigarette, watches the ash slowly drift down towards the table in what can only be described as a pathetic sort of flop (if ash can even flop). It's a nice metaphor for his emotional growth over the years.

It’s times like these when it hits him how fast time flies- seven years have passed in a blink of an eye, and Jihoon still feels like the same anxious rookie he was back when he first entered the industry. Sure, he knows how to paralyze a man twice his size now, how to hotwire a car and doctor business contracts and deal with Seungcheol’s permanent melancholy, but the core of him still feels like he’s a little too in love with dreamsharing and a little too in over his head, like he’s still the twenty-five year old marine too smitten with dreaming to ever let it go. Like he's still the twenty-seven year old rookie point man too terrified of the possibility of happiness to ever let himself _try._

If this was a novel, he’d be the supporting character with too many neuroses and too little character growth. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, like the fake almost-nicotine that rests on his tongue.

(Jihoon doesn't smoke in real life. He may not take the best care of himself emotionally or mentally, but he knows fucking up his lungs will only send him to an early grave. Priorities, you know.)

Somewhere down below, a clock starts to tick. Chaos erupts as every fire hydrant down the road erupts like a volcano, one by one by one. Shouts fill the air around him slowly, as if the world were stuck in molasses, like the opposite of a vacuum sucking noise into nothing. Somewhere far above, the sound of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony plays.

He takes one last drag of his cigarette and hums along, basking in the voices of the choir.

The world ends around him in a perfect cadence, and Jihoon wonders if five years is a long enough time to start forgiving himself.

 

* * *

 

Seungcheol knocks on Jihoon's door just as he manages to kick the PASIV under the cheap motel bed. He hastily rolls a small red die on the table- a three, the same number it's rolled ever since he bought it from a small magic shop in his hometown. Jihoon sighs. Guess he's still stuck in this fucking nightmare of a reality then.

He gets the door.

"Jihoon." Seungcheol says, nodding at him when he steps aside to let his friend in. It doesn't take a genius to realize that Seungcheol hasn't slept at all, but Jihoon says nothing and shuts the door behind them instead, pushing the lock into place. He'd be too much of a hypocrite to point out the heavy eyebags, the slouch of his shoulders, the imprints resulting from a too-tight grip on his spinning metal top fresh on the palm of his hand.

"Seungcheol." Jihoon replies instead. It's times like this that he misses Jisoo with a fervor bordering on desperation- Jisoo would know what to say and how to say it. Jisoo would know how to make Seungcheol sleep, eat, function like a human being. Jihoon was never one for words, much less those of comfort. Or concern. Or care. Jisoo, on the other hand, really, really was

(The very thought of Jisoo shoots a pang of regret through Jihoon’s heart and sends a chill down his spine. He can still feel the phantom pain of the bullet shooting through his kneecap, a cold, murderous aberration of Jisoo standing behind the gun. Jihoon had never seen Seungcheol look so terrified.)

"We need a forger." Seungcheol says. He says it with a certain hesitancy, like he's tiptoeing on eggshells, waiting for him to read between the lines. Jihoon knows what (or rather, _who_ ) he really means, because of course he does.

Both Seungcheol and Jihoon are picky people- they only settle for the very best. And the best just happens to be Lee Seokmin, forger extraordinaire.

"We need Seokmin." Jihoon replies. He pretends not to see the way Seungcheol winces.

"Yeah," Seungcheol grunts, eyes filled with so much pity Jihoon refuses to even look back at him. Pity? From _Seungcheol?_ Jihoon doesn’t want it. "Where can I find him?"

Jihoon pauses, rubs his fingers across his chin and pretends to think, as if he didn't already know the answer. He's known it for five years running now.

(Honestly, the only thing keeping him from hightailing it out of there ( _running, always running_ ) is a combination of his own stubborn pride, the need to maintain his immaculate reputation as a point man, and the fact that Mr. Wen would probably send a squadron of hitmen after him if he even _tried_.)

"Same old place he's always been." He answers, finally. His voice doesn't waver at all- he’s impressed with himself. "He’s in Mombasa."

 

* * *

 

Jihoon books the flight tickets for Seungcheol (two going and three returning), but chickens out at the last minute.

He doesn’t go to Mombasa- he stays in Paris instead.

Seungcheol doesn't say anything to him before he leaves for the airport, but the look he gives him speaks volumes:

_Get your shit together, Jihoon. You’re better than this._

 

 

 

God, Jihoon can only hope he is.


	2. murder business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For love is no part of the dreamworld. Love belongs to Desire, and Desire is always cruel.” - Neil Gaiman
> 
>  
> 
> _It ends with a bang, and then a whimper._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: this chapter is why i had to add the warning about graphic violence. it doesn't happen outside of one paragraph, but it's still there so please be careful! also the standard warnings for guns and swearing applies, and cuz this is inception, there's a hella load of dying in dreams.

It ends with a bang, and then a whimper.

 

 

 

Cobol Engineering was the one who hired them for the job. Jihoon knew they were bad news, knew that the firm was the textbook definition of an evil corporation, but what else could they do? They’d spent most of their earnings from the last job on running from yet another government they've pissed off and covering their tracks, and they needed some form of income to keep them going. Seungcheol can’t even start at reuniting with his family in Korea if he dies from starvation, after all.

So yeah. They took the job. Hired an architect too, even if he wasn’t up to their usual standards. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

If Jihoon had known that things would end up like this, though? Maybe he’d have taken his chance with starvation instead.

Their mark is a Mr. Wen Junhui: CEO of Gaishan Global, and overall rich man too smart for his own good. This was their plan: they’d take him down a couple levels, Seungcheol and Jihoon would pretend to be giving him a pitch on dreamsharing, and during the downtime after their meeting with him, Seungcheol would slip out and break into his safe and extract his secrets. Mingming would wait a level up to deal with projections and work as backup in case something went wrong. It wasn't a super complicated plan, but it was effective- just the way Jihoon liked it.

So when Jihoon is busy minding his own business, waiting for Seungcheol to rendezvous with him after finishing the extraction, and two bodyguard projections suddenly tackle him and drag him back to the dining room? He knows some shit went down. He’s done his research: Wen Junhui isn't militarized; he has no prior experience in dreamsharing. Either Mingming snitched on them, or Cobol wanted someone to frame for some random evil reason of the week.

Both options are Not Optimal.

Jihoon struggles against the guards, his well-tailored suit wrinkling violently as he tries to reach for his gun. If they’ve been compromised, someone needs to shoot themselves out of the layer and get Mingming. He’s the point man- he might as well be the one to do it. Unfortunately, being trained in Wushu means that your subconscious projections are too, and while Jihoon may have taught himself to fight, he’s no match against two Wushu practicing guards whose grip on him is so tight his arms don’t even remember what circulation _is_.

He barely gets to cuss the guards out before the ornate gilded folding doors of the dining room slide open, and he’s forced to kneel on the wooden floor. It's not great on his knees.

There are three other people in the room: Seungcheol, whose face is as pale as a sheet, Wen Junhui, who looks like he wants to kill them in the most expensive way possible, and-

 

 

_(Here are three essential things you need to know about point man Lee Jihoon:_

 

_One, he is nothing if not specific._

_Two, he will not hesitate to kill if you threaten his friends._

_Three, he would not be the man he is today if it weren't for Hong Jisoo.)_

 

 

Time slows down when Jihoon tries to get a glimpse of the third presence in the room and finds the face of Hong Jisoo instead. It stops for him, in fact, every iota of a second frozen in time and space, and Jihoon’s mind can only revolve around Jisoo, Jisoo, _Jisoo._ Jisoo, alive and well and _conscious_ , right in front of him.

He’s so shaken by the sight he almost doesn't notice the gun in Jisoo’s hand, pointed right at his head. Jisoo barely even glances at him, the man’s eyes looking right into Seungcheol’s terror-stricken ones. There’s a strange glint in Jisoo’s eyes, a weird tilt of the head, an odd twist in his smile, one that makes him look less like Jihoon’s best friend and more like a fairytale villain. It chills him down to the core.

“Put down your gun, Seungcheollie.” Jisoo croons, so cloyingly sweet it sickens him.

Jihoon turns his eyes to Seungcheol, shakes his head desperately. He doesn’t know what the fuck’s going on right now, but they _need_ to get this job done, or Cobol would come for their heads.

Seungcheol puts down his gun. Slides it down the dining table. Jihoon curses, internally.

That sentimental fucker.

“Good boy,” Jisoo says, pleased. “The envelope too, please.”

Jihoon hears the envelope slide down the table more than he sees it. At this point, he knows everything's over- it's just a matter of figuring out the least painful contingency plan.

He doesn't miss the way Jisoo grips his gun. Jisoo never liked holding a gun- it was too violent, too direct. Dreamshare was mostly academic to Jisoo, an art form over a means for business. He’d only held a gun twice in his life, and even then he held it wrong, his hands trembling as he tried to aim. Say what you want about Seungcheol and Jihoon, but Jisoo was never in the murder business.

This Jisoo though.

This Jisoo grips his gun exactly like Seungcheol does.

“So, Mr. Choi,” Wen Junhui says, smoothing his hands over his suit, “When were you going to tell me about this beautiful dream you built for me?”

_Shit._

Shit, fuck, _shit._

“I must admit, it’s very convincing,” he continues, “I wouldn't have figured it out if it weren't for Mr. Hong.”

“Then you know that shooting Jihoon won't solve anything, right?” Seungcheol asks, his hands raised to the level of his eyes, trying his best to pry his eyes away from Jisoo.

“That depends on where I’m shooting,” Jisoo says, eyes crinkling as his smile widens. “Killing him will only wake him up, but pain? Pain is in the mind.”

Jisoo lowers his gun so abruptly Jihoon doesn't even get to see it, all he registers is the cruel edge of Jisoo’s smile before a resounding _bang!_ echoes through the room, and suddenly his kneecap is on _fire_ , the bone cracking open like an explosion, the ligament tearing and the blood pouring and he can hear the blood pounding in his ears-

It takes every ounce of his willpower not to _howl_.

He clamps it down, bites at his lip until he bleeds, the only noise that manages to escape his mouth a whimper.

Jihoon looks up at Jisoo, his shoulders heaving and his hair plastered to his face, and sees nothing but a cold blankness in Jisoo’s eyes. The pain in his knee crawls up his leg like a spreading house fire, but it's nothing compared to the hollow feeling sinking in his chest when he realizes where this Jisoo came from. _Who_ this Jisoo came from.

He doesn't know what kind of expression he has on his face when he looks back at Seungcheol, but it must be bad, given the way the other averts his eyes.

Before he can even rasp out a disbelieving laugh, Seungcheol’s throwing himself onto the table, sliding down its immaculately polished surface and grabbing the gun. Seungcheol aims, quick and deadly, and pulls the trigger.

 

 

This is how Jihoon’s world ends: with a bang, a whimper, and a bullet between his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Jihoon wakes up with a gentle flutter of eyelashes, and proceeds to rip the IV out of his veins in an almost violent fashion.

“Mingming, we gotta wake Seungcheol up _now_.” He barks. Mingming sputters.

“B-but it's too soon-” Mingming manages to choke out, before Jihoon interrupts him.

“We don't have time!” Jihoon growls out, scrambling to reconfigure the PASIV before the dreamworld collapses, “We’ve been compromised. _Wake Seungcheol up._ ”

Mingming scrambles to the room Seungcheol’s sleeping in, and Jihoon throws his attention back into reconfiguring the PASIV. His hands fly across the control panel, unlocking the vial cradle and trying his best to recalibrate the Somnacin dosage levels to keep Wen Junhui asleep for as long as possible. The dosage levels need to be increased exponentially, and while that means that Seungcheol would be kept under longer too, the kick Mingming’s administering should be enough to wake him up-

_Click._

Jihoon looks up, straight into the barrel of Wen Junhui’s gun.

“Shh,” Wen Junhui says, raising a finger to his lips.

Jihoon does what he's told, albeit very reluctantly, and raises his hands to the level of his eyes.

 

In the other room, Seungcheol wakes up, his body drenched with water and his mind haunted by ghosts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahahhaha cheolsoo makes me sad
> 
> also please dont ever rip IVs out, that's a really not good thing to do

**Author's Note:**

> i might write more drabbles within this universe, ~~but i'm gonna hold off on that until i get at least one of my other promised sequels done first~~ JK I WROTE MORE WHOOPS. 
> 
> so yeah the cast so far:  
> seungcheol = dom cobb (the extractor)  
> jisoo = mal cobb (the shade)  
> jihoon = arthur (point man)  
> seokmin = eames (the forger)  
> junhui = saito (the rich dude who bought the airline)


End file.
